


open my heart, right at the scars

by whispersbrave



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:12:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersbrave/pseuds/whispersbrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>liam sometimes has nightmares, and he needs zayn. he needs zayn to pull him together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open my heart, right at the scars

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a post on [ otpprompts ](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/) tumblr. i found it really - well, i can't say "cute" but i felt like writing it, so here.  
> basically, liam has nightmares about someone dying. zayn comforts him.  
> the summary is very misleading, this isn't fluffy. at all.

liam has terrible nightmares sometimes. it’s the same thing: a black room with a red bloody body. it scares him more than anything else in the world. mostly because he can’t see the face. he can’t see the face of the person who’s laying on the floor limp and dead - and just that; that uncertainty and the not knowing, is what makes liam wake up screaming and writhing in the bed. a sheet of sweat on his chest and his forehead.

  
and he’s shaking too.

"shh, liam, baby. you’re okay, love. you’re okay. i’m right here. shh, babe," is all he hears as a pair of soft arms pull him close in to the body. liam’s head rests against zayn’s bare chest, wetting it with tears and sweat, and zayn continues to hug him, and he leans down to press comforting kisses in to liam’s shoulder.

"it’s that dream again, zayn, i don’t know why that’s all i see," liam hiccups the truth. he doesn’t dream often anymore. he doesn’t. he goes to bed tired and exhausted more often than not, and when he goes to sleep his brain just numbs out.

but sometimes. sometimes liam has the dream. the nightmare.

it’s not just what he sees that scares him, it’s what he feels. the panic, the tension, the worry. he feels like what tethers him to life has been taken away from him leaving him alone and floating above the world.

and that scares him so much.

because zayn is his tether. he never wants zayn to leave him.

"don’t leave me ever, z. please don’t," liam continues, his tears spilling freely now, and he feels like he’s breaking apart.

the only reason he’s together right now is because he’s in zayn’s arms.

"no, baby, never. i’d never leave you, i love you too much to see you hurt like this," zayn shushes him, "i’m right here. i will always be right here. right next to you, babe."

"it just feels so real, zayn. and what i feel?" liam pulls away from zayn to look at him with watery eyes, "is what i feel like when we fight. but ten times worse, zayn."

"i know babe, i know. i’m right here, aren’t i? see? i’m going to be on this bed every single day till the day we die," zayn says, a soft and a comforting smile on his face.

"i love you."

"i love you too, darling," zayn says with a kiss, "let’s go to sleep, shall we?"

liam nods, as zayn lays down facing liam. liam settles his back against zayn’s chest and presses close to zayn, the need to be close to him is overwhelming. he laces his fingers between zayn’s, pulls zayn’s hands up to his lips and kisses the knuckles. once. twice. thrice.

zayn chuckles and he hums a song - it’s a song in urdu, liam can’t translate it or even understand it. it’s comforting though, and liam’s eyelids drop heavily and exhausted.

he feels a faint kiss on the back of his neck before he falls asleep. a dreamless night dawning upon him.

he wakes up a couple of hours later, his alarm bringing him back to life. on instinct, his hands search zayn’s side which are cold and he sighs. he pushes himself off his bed, cracking his back, and breathing deeply.

"zayn?" he calls out, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lights it up. taking a deep breath, "baby, where are you?"

there’s no reply, and liam.

and suddenly it comes back to liam: the dream.

it’s not just a dream after all, is it?

that night haunts liam every single night and day.

-

he was in the office, running late while he finished up something dumb and stupid he didn’t even remember. it was their anniversary, and zayn had spent all day planning a dinner. and at, six thirty, he had come to pick liam up with his eyes sparkling and his smile larger than life plastered on his face. he had a bouquet of roses in his hands, one was bigger than the rest. zayn had handed them to liam with a passionate and loving kiss to liam’s tired lips.

"come on, darling, it’s time to go home," zayn had grinned into the kiss, "i have a special night planned, love." zayn had pulled apart then, resting their heads together behind the door to liam’s office.

"i know, but i have work, zayn. i can’t leave, right now. can we postpone this night," liam had asked, guilt enveloping him - but he had to make sure he got the accounts right that night.

"be home by eight, i’ll be waiting," zayn had chuckled, in understanding. of course had understood what liam meant, what liam needed. zayn knew liam better than liam knew himself. "i’ll be waiting," zayn had winked as he turned around and walked away. liam smiling fondly at zayn, wondering what he had done to get a boy as good and amazing as zayn.

  
at seven forty five, he got a call from an officer from their local police department. he had to come down as soon as he could to the station. “it’s of utmost important you do, mister payne,” the man on the other line had said, and liam had hung up as quickly. he had called zayn first, ten times. and left messages at all, asking him to call him.  
by the eleventh call, he was already at the station, sitting in front of a buffed up man - officer james - who said words that had torn down liam’s world.

_"i’m sorry for your loss"_

_"mugging gone wrong"_

_"single gun shot wound"_

_"can you please come and identify the body"_

_"it’s protocol"_

and liam wanted to cry, liam had wanted to slap them, to punch them. protocol, why did he care about protocol. his world, his everything, zayn was gone.  
but he had nodded, unable to say anything, or do anything. he had followed a kind woman in to the morgue. tears had fallen when he saw that, and all he hoped was for his zayn to be at home. asleep. that this wasn’t his zayn. this was -

the woman pulled the sheets away -

and liam had fallen to floor crying screaming incoherently. his zayn. that was his zayn, on the stretcher. zayn didn’t look like he was sleeping, liam had realised then how it was the biggest load of crap anybody had ever said; when they die, they look like they are sleeping.

because never once in their ten years of being together, and fifteen of knowing each other before that, had zayn ever slept so still. zayn used to snore, and he would deny it when liam teased him about it but zayn did snore. and he slept like on his side, cuddled up to liam, even when he slept, a shadow of a smile on his face.

  
but then, zayn had looked like he was in pain, and fuck - he must have been, he was shot in his stomach. and he had bled out, nobody coming to his rescue. and liam had leant forward, stroking his face; so cold and dead.

and he had wept against zayn’s chest, begging him to come back. apologising for not leaving when zayn had come to pick him up. because, then liam and zayn would be at home, cuddled up in their bed after an exhausting round of anniversary sex.

"baby, please," liam had cried. "i love you. i’m so sorry, baby. i am so sorry, zayn."

_i’m so sorry, please forgive me. i love you._ (a mantra in liam’s head).

"thank you, liam," an officer said, as they pulled liam away from zayn, throwing the white sheet back over his head.  
and liam had cried harder, on the shoulders of the officer holding him.

he needed zayn. that’s all he had been able to think about.

he had driven home then, with wet eyes and shaking hands. the officer, who had called liam to deliver the worst news liam could ever get, had offered to drive liam home with a

“you’re in no condition to drive, sir, let me,” and liam had shushed him, he was in the need to be alone.

  
liam had cried in the car. all he could think about was zayn. zayn in his art room painting. zayn on the first night of his gallery opening. zayn, when they were five, swinging on the swings in liam’s backyard. zayn singing his favourite songs has he made liam breakfast. zayn on the day when they brought safir home, the laughs and the happy tears and the “i will be the best father to you” that was whispered against safir’s tiny ears. zayn in the tux on their wedding. zayn leaning against the terrace railings, smoking and smiling at a sleepy liam.

  
zayn.

louis was there, with safir in his arms, when liam had gotten home with tear stained eyes. liam had looked around the house, the dinner table set with candles and a bottle of chardonnay in the middle.

"liam? is everything okay?" louis had asked when liam dropped to the floor near the door of their house, crying again. "sit, safir," louis had placed safir on the floor as he rushed over to liam, gathering him up in his arms, "lili, what happened?"

"zaynzaynzaynzayn," liam had cried, his head rested in the palm of his hands.

"what happened to zayn, liam?" louis had asked, pulling liam’s hands away from his face and wiped his tears away.

"gun shot, i had to identify - louis," liam had hiccuped, "zayn’s gone. he’s gone. he got taken away from me."

"oh, liam. babe, i’m so sorry," louis had said, pressing kisses to liam’s forehead - what does one say to their dead best friend’s husband.  
safir had wailed then, looking at his father and god father crying and hugging each other, and liam had looked up, away from his hands.  
for the first time, since he had heard about zayn, did he stop crying. he pushed himself away from louis, and the door, and stumbled to his one year old son.

"i’m sorry, safir, i’m so sorry," liam had said as he picked his child up in his arms, and had pulled him close to his chest.

safir had brought a chubby little hand to liam’s face and pressed it against his cheek. liam had given his son a watery little smile, then -

"it’s you and i against the world," liam had said, which broke his heart in to million and countless pieces for zayn was his everything.

-

  
three years later, zayn is still liam’s everything. they said, at his funeral, the pain would go away, that liam would learn to deal with it. deal with everything without zayn. but that’s a lie. as the times passed, liam missed zayn more. and the more he missed zayn, the worse the pain got.

the worse liam got.

sometimes the only thought in his mind is how he should have left with zayn, how he should have come home with zayn. because then, zayn wouldn’t have left to buy a pack of smokes. because then, zayn would be alive and there for all of safir’s first. for everything.

  
and liam wouldn’t have to keep calling zayn’s phone for it to transfer to his voicemail; _hey this is zayn malik, i’m unavailable at the moment. i’ll get back to you as soon as i can. leave a message at the beep._

and to hear zayn say i love you, liam wouldn’t have to keep playing the last voicemail zayn ever left him, _hey babe, i don’t think i’ll be able to make it to the dinner. i love you so much. happy anniversary, babe. i had the best two years with you, thank you._

  
liam still doesn’t understand why zayn left him that message, why he didn’t call the police or for an ambulance if he had the energy but

liam understands.

if it were him in zayn’s place, liam would have done the same thing too.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh, so... how was that?  
> i hope you liked it, please don't kill me. if you want to scream at me, you can message me on my [tumblr](http://zaynmalikds.tumblr.com/)


End file.
